


The Two Types of Defectors

by wormghoul



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, people distrusting dorne, swtor character backstory, the consequences of paranoia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 20:29:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11654154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wormghoul/pseuds/wormghoul
Summary: No one knows that the new commander of Havoc Squad is secretly an Imperial refugee. Well...no one knew until Elara Dorne intercepts a shipment of her CO's "personal requisitions" and its contents leave her with questions that Ovadya can't answer.or, alternatively,  "I can't believe my commander wears contacts to cover up her sith eyes"





	The Two Types of Defectors

**Author's Note:**

> here's the unique backstory I came up with for my beautiful trooper Ovadya after I gave her the sith eyes in the character creator and got the urge to justify them.

Having been left on the ship again - as was vaguely customary when her CO went after high ranking Imperial targets -  Elara was running out of things to do to keep occupied. She’d gone through the paperwork with her usual gusto and there wasn’t much to inventory since the war was tying up almost all the supply channels, even for Havoc Squad. She was about to try and settle down to read some news on the holonet when there was a series of short rappings on the bulkhead door of the cargo compartment. Worried that Vik had locked himself out again, Elara lazily made her way down to the entryway of the ship, already mentally scolding the Weequay for his relative uselessness and irresponsibility.

When she reached the door however, there was no one there, just a small brown package sitting on the entry ramp, its courier seemingly long gone. The package wasn’t big enough to contain enough explosives to damage the _Throne Breaker_ in any way, but Elara flipped the switch to jostle the ramp, seeing if she could get it to detonate just in case. The box just shook about in a very boring, nonexplosive manner. _Must be one of the Major’s ‘special acquisitions’_ , she thought dully and opened the door to collect the delivery.

The box was addressed to one “Okaa’la Dervis”  which was not one of her CO’s usual aliases, confirming her suspicion that this was one of Ovadya’s _personal_ packages. Though normally a stickler for rules and propriety, Elara let her CO’s ordering of little “happy shiny fun things” slide. They were harmless little purchases like Alderaanian chocolate, exotic prophylactics, or just nicer ration bars, and besides, Ovadya would go to war with the personnel division to defend Elara’s loyalty to the Republic, so she supposed that little things here and there wouldn’t matter. Still, accepted norm or not, Elara had a duty to make sure the shipment wasn’t compromised in any way, since that Imperial scag Rakton would do anything to dismantle Havoc squad. So she peeled off the labels and tape and pawed through the packing foam until she hit pay dirt in the form of two smaller rectangular boxes and an unlabeled bottle. Though they were unlabeled, Elara guessed they were food and booze, since those seemed to be the Major’s favorite pastimes.

Unscrewing the bottle’s lid immediately confirmed Elara’s guess that it was booze. By the strength of the smell alone it was probably some moonshine that the less than honorable Mandalorians sold in the shadows of shifty Nar Shaddaa cantinas. The smallish bottle was probably enough to keep Ovadya, Jorgan, and Vik drunk for the next standard month. She quickly recapped it, trying to avoid a contact buzz with the foul stuff. Turning her attention to the boxes, she peeled back another layer of paper to reveal the box labelling.

The small boxes were identical except for the words _left_ and _right_ , printed on each of the boxes. On the surface this was puzzling, the need for directional labelling meant that the boxes weren’t some kind of sex thing, since Ovadya was a human, with a singular set of genitals. It also wasn’t food, since there was no need to define that by direction either. Elara popped the seal on the box marked _right_ and a jumble of small circular cases fell into her palm. Each contained a... _colored_ _contact_? She put all but one case back into the box and examined the one she left out.

It wasn’t the same shade of brown as the Major’s eyes, it was darker, lacking the golden highlights near the center of her iris. It was also a curious type of contact. The case said it was a continuous lens, meaning that it adhered to the eye and became like a second skin, virtually undetectable to all but the most sophisticated equipment. This was worrying to Elara. Had the Major faked her eyesight exams? Not that it mattered anyways, since she was a dead on shot from three kliks away even on windy days. And if it was for vision, why colored lens? Those were certainly harder to find now given the war and all. Elara suddenly felt an overwhelming need to know. There was a certain guilt in that, but, there was also a certain guilt in the Major acquiring lenses.

Dorne resolved herself to ask her CO about the package. In the meantime though, she placed the box in the Major’s quarters and found herself some bureaucratic nonsense to do as penance while she waited.

* * *

When Ovadya returned to the _Throne Breaker_ , she could tell that something was wrong. The ship was too clean, too...perfect. Dorne, she thought, something’s wrong with Dorne. After several run ins with her personnel officer and watching the Imperial defector face undue scrutiny, she’d learned her medic’s tells. After dropping her gear in the locker room for Jorgan to deal with, Ovadya wandered her way into the medbay, where Elara was busying herself combing through shelves with a great deal of attention.

“Sergeant, is something bothering you?” her tone was plain but Dorne still jumped almost clear out of her boots. Quickly, she stood properly and saluted, flush with embarrassment that she hadn’t noticed the Major walk in. Ovadya had told her to relax while on board with only the squad, but Dorne persisted. Ovadya sighed and told her to stand at ease, she then repeated her question.

“Dorne, the ship reeks of cleaner, the holocom log has been cleaned out, and everything’s over-organized. Something’s up, what is it?” The taller woman leaned against the doorframe of the medbay, trying to see if a relaxed posture would coax Dorne into some sort of casual conversation. It didn’t.

“Sir, I intercepted a delivery for you today, and there was an unusual item in the shipment that had me worried. But your prerogatives are your own, so I won’t pry.” All of Dorne’s earlier courage melted like kolto in the twin suns of Tatooine.  

 _“Elara_ ,” Ovadya tried quietly, stepping into the medbay proper now. “Enough with the proper schtick. It’s frustrating. If you have a question, kriffing _ask_ it! And if the question is if you can get blasted with me, then the answer is yes, if that’s what it’ll take to get you to _loosen up_.” her voice took on a joking tone at the end, given that the idea of Dorne drinking was the same as thinking you could find a skinny Hutt. A quiet moment passed as Dorne chewed on the idea of speaking up. Consciously or not, she blurted out her concern anyways.

“It's the contacts, sir.” Dorne spoke plainly, even if it tumbled out like aurebesh soup. Ovadya balked in response, obviously not expecting that answer. She slammed the medbay door shut and stepped closer to the medic.

“ _The what?”_ She whispered roughly, eyes going wide, paranoia blooming white hot in her gut.

“The contacts, the-the colored ones. Forgive me, sir, but I had to check the package for weapons and threats and I- I just came across them, I won't tell, I swear.” If Dorne’s words had been soup before they were more like sputtering fireworks now, her tone lost all semblance of restraint and there was a raw quality to it. Ovadya was surprised, a little proud too, maybe, given this was Dorne’s first emotional outburst since joining the crew. But that was overshadowed by her cold fear of being caught in her lie. And Dorne of all people could find out. _By accident._

“Well, what do you think they’re for?” Ovadya laughed out nervously, watching Elara’s face for clues, for a break in cover, for that damnable smugness that rolled off Imperial agents like smog when they’d cornered their prey.

“I, uh, _Major_ , I don’t know.” Dorne’s eyebrows furrowed, deep in thought, “I doubt they’re vision, since, since, you’re an excellent marksman.” Elara stumbled through her response, despite Ovadya still appearing outwardly calm. Elara swallowed and dug deep to find some of that rebellious resolve she had when she was alone on the ship. “Maybe, you just want to change your eye color? I don’t see why, they, uh look fine the way they are. I can’t say what they’re for, but, your secrets are your own.” she finished strong, making eye contact with her CO.

 _Her secrets_ , Ovadya chewed over that qualifier. Suddenly, she wasn’t sure she could believe Dorne was that ignorant. For a moment she really considered the idea that Dorne may be an Imperial spy, that it wasn’t just the paranoia pumping through her veins. The thought made her sick, not only because she had spent almost 15 successful years on the run, but because she'd gone to bat for Dorne and defended her at every turn.

Quick as Dromund Kaas lightning, Ovadya reached to Dorne’s belt and swiped her side arm away, paranoia taking over. Elara yelped, bewildered to see her CO acting this way. Dorne watched her pistol clatter across the floor of the medbay while at the same time Ovadya threw the medbay into lockdown, hermetically sealing the compartment, soundproofing the room. Ovadya reached out and balled a fist into Dorne’s off duty uniform shirt and pulled the woman in close.

“What’s going on here Dorne?” she growled, “What do you know about _my secrets_ , Sergeant?”

“Nothing! I swear, Major, please,” Dorne cried out, shaking her head furiously. The answer wasn’t cutting it for Ovadya though, who turned and nearly slammed Dorne against the wall of the room, durasteel threatening to bite into the woman’s back.

“It’s been fourteen kriffing years, _you lost!_ I survived then and I’ll do it again.” she whispered sinisterly into Dorne’s ear, pressing the suspected spy harder against the wall. “Your bosses should get the hint when you’re floating over Belsavis. Tell them the last Neralis survives and is going to kill them all.”

“ _Neralis_? Major! What are you talking about!” Dorne’s voice came quietly, as her lungs were being crushed by the vice that was her Commander’s grip and the wall. Elara tried hard to reason with what her CO had just said to her, voice had cold and eyes blackened with madness. Ovadya was clearly contemplating slamming her into the wall again, so Dorne’s mind fired twice as fast. _Neralis_ , _Neralis_ , the name ran circles around her mind when, suddenly, it clicked.

“You’re...Sith?” she croaked out incredulously. Ovadya, a Republic diehard and borderline stereotypical patriotic soldier couldn’t be Imperial, much less Sith? Could she? But Dorne remembered her father serving under a similarly named Sith Lord whose family had been executed, and if she was right, it would explain the reaction...and the threat.

“No, wasn’t that why you wanted me dead in the first place?” Ovadya snarled, before realizing that Dorne calling her Sith had set off an alarm bell in her head. Anyone the Empire sent after her would have known that she wasn’t Force sensitive. It was why they’d set their hounds on her family. Dorne was innocent.  

“Please, Ovadya, I didn’t know,” Dorne’s voice threatened to fail her, the use of her CO’s first name was a clear appeal to humanity and a last attempt at that too. It worked, though, and the cold drained from her eyes and her grip loosened as Ovadya was shook from her paranoia looking at Elara now, completely innocent and terrified. Ovadya, in that moment all the monsters she’d dedicated herself to fighting and a different fear washed over her.

After fourteen years a fugitive, the way she’d go down was by outing herself in a fit of fear and anger, the ultimate nightmare scenario. She dropped Dorne, who angled her fall to land against one of the cots on board, half slumped to the floor. Whether it was disgust or strained relief that showed on the Sergeant’s face, she couldn’t tell. Ovadya stumbled back herself, leaning on the wall of the medbay as those teenage nightmares flooded back into her mind.

She saw her brother Zayter’s body, broken and burned on the steps of the Citadel. Smelled the smoke that came from the ruins of her mother’s shuttle as it was shot down over the jungle. Heard her father scream as he watched as Nevhra, only six years old, was thrown into the beast pits. Her heart ran faster than humanly possible and her eyes narrowed into tunnel visioned slits as it all washed over her again. The only blessing in that was she stopped seeing her family go down. Her sister, her brothers, her mother and father, all of them, gone.

After so long of not thinking about it, Ovadya wasn’t equipped to handle it anymore, the swell of emotions morphed into a pani attack, taking her to the ground. Despite the borderline torture she’d just endured, Dorne regained her balance and valiantly sprang into action. Tenderly lifting her CO’s head, Elara administered a fractional dose of a sedative to ease the panic attack. As Ovadya’s head slowly cleared and her good sense returned she looked at Elara, ashamed.

“I won’t tell,” the medic whispered.

“I’m not Sith,” the soldier replied.

They spoke in quick succession to each other as the mood in the medbay slowly warmed up. The two of them needed a drink, or at least Ovadya did, if only to chase the ghosts back into the forgotten corner they crawled out from.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” Dorne asked, watching as Ovadya’s vitals returned to normal.

“I haven’t told anyone. It’s complicated.”

It couldn’t stay complicated or a secret for much longer though, since Ovadya knew she owed Dorne not only an apology, but an explanation too. But that could wait until Dorne’s bruised ribs healed and Ovadya was good and inebriated.

 


End file.
